


if wishes were

by CloudCover (RainyForecast)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Autumn, Christmas, Fluff, Horses, Kid Fic, M/M, Seasonal, farm au, new year's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-08-05 03:31:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16359908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainyForecast/pseuds/CloudCover
Summary: “It’s okay, I promise,” Sid says soothingly, crouching to be more on her level. “Are you lost?”There isn’t any comprehension on her face. She says something softly in a Slavic-sounding language to Sid, and points a tiny finger at the ponies.“Yeah,” Sid says, trying to sound as reassuring as possible, so she can at least understand his tone. “Ponies! Do you like them?”





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

 

Sid loves his job, so much, but if one more mom in yoga pants and a puffy vest hits on him he’s going to scream.

The farm makes the bulk of its revenue during the fall season. Families and school groups flock in to pick out the perfect pumpkin and buy freshly pressed cider. The goats get spoiled rotten, and Puck and Stanley, his team of Percherons, get plenty of exercise taking tourists on hayrides.

The Shetlands he puts in a back pasture, though. Cute as they are, they’re conniving little shitheads, and he has visions of them biting some little kid’s fingers or managing to get loose in the apple orchard and giving themselves colic.

He hadn’t even wanted ponies, but Officer Hornqvist had called him when they were seized by the police in a neglect case, and had asked that since he had a horse trailer and the property, could he keep them for a couple days, et cetera et cetera. He’s taken one look at the tiny, then-skinny ponies with their tangled manes and mud-caked coats and known they were coming home for good.

Now Maple and Biscuit pretty much rule the place. Biscuit once got loose and walked right in the back kitchen door. They boss the enormous Percherons, Eunice the donkey, the goats, and even the dog. Ref is a Border collie and he tried to herd the ponies. Once. And never again.

So when Sid takes a break from the yoga moms and goes to visit them, he’s more than a bit concerned when he sees a little girl standing in front of their paddock.

She’s not supposed to be here, but she looks too little to be able to read the “No Trespassing” signs he puts up around the private areas of the property. She’s not doing anything dangerous, just standing a couple feet back from the fence, hands clasped in front of her. 

When he gets closer he hears that she’s breathlessly and enthusiastically talking to them, in something other than English. Her face, when he can see it, is wearing the rapt expression of a saint receiving an angelic visitation.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Sid says softly, trying to not startle her. She jumps anyway, and Sid feels like a monster. She’s precious, with huge dark brown eyes and a big wispy bow in her curling hair. “It’s okay, hon. Do you know where your mom or dad are?”

She just blinks at him, eyes going too shiny and her little chin wobbling. Fuck.

“It’s okay, I promise,” Sid says soothingly, crouching to be more on her level. “Are you lost?”

There isn’t any comprehension on her face. She says something softly in a Slavic-sounding language to Sid, and points a tiny finger at the ponies.

“Yeah,” Sid says, trying to sound as reassuring as possible, so she can at least understand his tone. “Ponies! Do you like them?”

Keeping himself from getting any closer to the girl, he awkwardly crouch-shuffles to the fence, where Maple and Biscuit are crowding close in hopes that he has treats in his pockets. Well. He usually does.

He takes a baby carrot from his pocket and lays it on his flattened palm. “Look,” he tells the little girl. He lets Maple snorf up the carrot, then pulls another from his pocket and holds it out enticingly to the little girl. She sniffles but shuffles closer, and holds her hand out. Sid shows her again how to flatten her hand so the ponies won’t accidentally bite her. She’s shaking a little as he gently takes her elbow to guide her hand towards Biscuit.

With atypical gentleness, Biscuit lips up the carrot, and the girl gasps at the whiskery brush of his muzzle. She looks back at Sid, eyes big and shining with wonder. He helps her pet the little star on Biscuit’s forehead and to scratch his withers. Biscuit closes his eyes and leans into the fence with a theatrical groan.

The girl giggles, and while Sid may be susceptible to kids in general, it’s maybe pretty much the cutest thing he’s ever heard.

“Ok?” he asks her, and she nods.

“Ok,” she repeats softly, and then: “Papa?”

“Alright sweetheart, let’s go find Papa,” Sid tells her, and stands, holding out a hand to her. She puts her hand in his and he tries not to die inside from how small it is inside his own.

Halfway back to the shed where the cider press is, Sid sees a tall, distressed-looking man talking to Jake, gesturing and holding a hand above the ground at about the height of the little girl still clutching Sid’s hand.

“Papa!” she cries, and lets go of Sid to go pelting into the man’s knees.

“Sonechka!” the man cries, and scoops her up. He closes his eyes in relief, and clutches his daughter to his chest.

Sid fidgets with one of the sleeves of his flannel where it’s come unrolled. The guy is. Tall. Very.

The man anxiously talks to his daughter in what Sid is beginning to think is Russian for a moment, before she launches into a feverishly excited story, waving her hands and twisting in her father’s arms to point excitedly at Sid.

The man raises his eyes to Sid’s. They’re the same deep, woody brown as his daughter’s.

“She say she got lost and you find her,” he says, the deep, accented rumble of his voice sending a shiver down Sid’s spine. “Also, something about—“

The girl interrupts him with another torrent of words, eyes wide and hands flailing.

“—baby horse?” The man hazards, after she finishes.

“I found her by the ponies,” Sid explains. “She was a little upset so I let her pet them. I hope that was okay.”

“Her favorite thing in world,” the man explains. “She have book and blanket and picture on the wall and tv show, everything ponies. We live in city her whole life. She never see real one before.”

“Oh,” Sid says, and feels his already melting heart completely dissolve. “Would she like to sit on one?”

“Oh no, we cause so much trouble already—“ the man protests, but Sid waves him off.

“It’s no trouble, I swear it’s not. I can tack one of them up and just lead them around a little bit.”

“You sure?” The man asks, and Sid nods. The man explains something to his daughter in Russian. She gasps and goes completely stiff, mouth dropped open.

When she turns around to gape at Sid, the shining amazement in her eyes is worth everything.

***

On the way back to the paddock, Sid learns that the little girl’s name is Sofia, and that she’s five. She and her father Evgeni have actually just moved to town for a fresh start. Evgeni is friends with a Russian couple from town called the Gonchars, and is staying with them while he gets settled.

“We need something different,” he says. “Get out of city, move somewhere more healthy for Sofia. She have asthma and city has bad air. Her mama—“ he pauses for a split second. “Her mama go home, to Russia. Not coming back.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sid says softly, heart aching. How could anyone just leave such a precious little girl?

Evgeni shrugs, but Sid can see pain flicker across his face.

Their conversation is interrupted by their arrival at the ponies’ paddock. There’s a high-pitched whicker and then both ponies come trotting to the fence.

“Oohh,” Evgeni says, and the way his face lights up tells Sid he’s as much of an animal lover as his daughter.

A lot of Sid’s friends have kids small enough to still sit on the tiny equines, so he has a set of tack for each. He chooses Maple for Sofia to ride, and lets her help brush Maple’s fuzzy winter coat and shows her how he picks out her hooves.

“We have to make sure there aren’t any rocks stuck in there, or it can hurt their feet,” Sid explains, Evgeni’s murmured translation echoing him. Sofia nods, very intently, and leans down to peer closely at Maple’s foot. After a long inspection, she nods at Sid. Sid hides a smile at how serious she is.

She wants to make a braid in Maple’s mane, and he lets her, even scrounging around for one of the rubber bands he uses when he braids Puck and Stanley’s manes and tails for shows. Evgeni stands off to one side, smiling widely and filming everything on his phone.

Finally the little saddle and pad are in place,  and the girth is tightened. Sid hands the lead rope to Sofia.

“You can walk her out,” he says. “I’m going to walk right on her other side. Are you ready?”

Sofia nods, the child size riding helmet Sid keeps around bobbling a little on her head. Sid kneels to tighten the chinstrap a little and secure it. When he looks up, Evgeni is watching them both with soft, misty eyes.

They carefully walk out, Sid keeping a hand on Maple’s halter, but out of Sofia’s line of sight so she can feel like she’s leading Maple all by herself.

Sid has a sandy roundpen where he exercises his horses, and he takes Maple and Sophia inside. Evgeni leans on the fence while Sid carefully sets Sofia on Maple’s back. Her eyes are wide as saucers as he takes hold of the lead rope and gently tugs Maple forward into a walk.

“Papa,” she says, little voice quavery. To Sid’s horror she’s got fat tears rolling down her cheeks. She sobs out something to her dad.

“Is she scared?” Sid asks. “Do we need to stop?”

“No, no,” Evgeni says, and he swipes at his own wet eyes with one large hand. “She’s just so happy, she says.”

“Aw, hon,” Sid says. His heart is so past melted. It’s evaporating. He leans down to Sofia’s eye level. “You okay?”

She takes a deep, gulping breath and nods, then reaches out with both hands to tug Sid down and give him a strangling hug around his neck, her tear-damp face smashed against his.

“You’re so welcome, sweetheart,” Sid tells her, and straightens to keep leading Maple forward, blinking rapidly to try and keep his own eyes from overflowing.

***

Jake does alright holding down the fort and Sid’s able to give Sofia her ride and to show her how to untack and put away Maple. They all feed handfuls of hay to the ponies and then Sid walks them back to the front of the property and the field where people park their cars.

“Can’t thank enough,” Evgeni tells him. “Can’t…riding lessons so expensive. Would like to give her, but..” He trails off, looking miserable. Sid aches for him.

“All my friends’ kids ride the Shetlands,” he tells Evgeni. “It’s why I bother to keep all the gear for them around, keep their training up. I’d love to have you both back, I really would.”

Evgeni starts making a lot of noise about how he couldn’t possibly, et cetera, and Sid decides he’s going to have to change tactics.

“I’m having the Hornqvists and the Fleurys over for dinner this Saturday night,” he explains. “They both have girls around Sofia’s age. Maple and Biscuit are going to be tacked up anyway. Why don’t you come? Bring Sofia? She can make some friends, you can meet some of the locals. Could be fun.”

“Sid,” Evgeni says, looking a little overcome. “That’s— yes. We can come. Thank you, so much. Not easy, moving to new town.” Something seems to occur to him. “Ok with your family? You have wife, or.” He pauses. “Is okay more people for dinner?”

Sid coughs. “No, uh,no. It’s just me, and all the animals. That’s kinda why I like having people over. Not as lonely.” Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that.

Evgeni’s eyes are soft, and he smiles. “That’s good. Good not to be lonely.”

Sid feels his cheeks grow hot. “Yeah.” He can’t seem to look away from Evgeni’s eyes: warm and dark and…. something else.

“Call me Zhenya,” Evgeni says, and he bumps his shoulder gently against Sid’s.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> oops, this accidentally became multi-chapter.

 

 

Sid can’t stop thinking about Sofia and Evgeni all the next week. He has enough to do, what with all the people coming for pumpkin and apple related activities and all of his animals to take care of. But he still finds himself staring into space and thinking about little Sofia’s reaction to the ponies, and about Evgeni’s warm gaze.

He thinks about Evgeni a lot.

But then on Wednesday Stanley throws a shoe and he has to call the farrier out, and on Thursday he discovers that a stray cat had kittens in his hay shed, and on Friday Jake calls him at 7 in the morning sounding like he’s hacking up a lung and Sid has to handle the day’s wave of visitors all on his own. He has to call Dumo away from his cafe to work the cider press for a few hours.

By late Saturday afternoon, he’s exhausted. But the last visitors are easily shuffled out and he can deal with the fact that Maple and Biscuit took it upon themselves to kick over their water trough and wallow in the resulting mud puddle. The mud’s caked in the autumn sunshine, thankfully, and he’s able to brush most of it out.

“You’re not helping,” he tells Biscuit as he tries to eat the fence rail his lead rope is tied to. Biscuit only flicks one admittedly adorable little ear back to listen to Sid.

Sid has time to get inside and shower off the day’s grime and check on the stray mama cat who he relocated to a blanket-lined box in the sun porch.

She purrs at him and blinks sleepily as her three kittens mew and squirm against her belly. He reaches in to scratch her ears, and the volume increases. She’s so tame that she has to be a former pet.

“How about we take you and the kids to see Dr. Derick on Monday, huh?” he asks her. She just ratchets up the purr volume even louder and Sid sighs. Looks like he owns a cat now.

He’s in the kitchen putting together roast pork and apples to stick in the oven when he hears the first knock on the door. He throws his dish towel over his shoulder and goes to let his guests in.

It’s a nervous looking Evgeni, with a foil-wrapped dish in one hand and a gleefully bouncing Sofia hanging off the other.

“We too early?” Evgeni says, but Sid waves him off.

“Not at all, it’s a totally casual thing, come on in.”

Evgeni’s eyes flick down to Sid’s torso, and too late Sid remembers he’s wearing a novelty apron Flower got him as a joke. It has “Kiss Me, Eh?  I’m ~Canadian~” emblazoned across it, and is covered with little cartoon moose. Evgeni’s lips twitch and Sid feels his cheeks warm.

“Hi Mr. Crosby,” Sofia says as he leads them into the kitchen, the syllables rehearsed-sounding and run together like they’re one word.

“Hi there.” Sid turns back to smile at her. “But you can call me Sid.” He looks at Evgeni, waiting for him to translate.

Evgeni says something to Sofia, and she beams. “Sid, pony?” she asks, and Sid laughs as Evgeni shakes his head.

“Sorry, I’m tell her not be pushing but she so excited. Talk about everyday.”

There’s a gentle ache that seems to have taken up permanent residency under Sid’s rib cage in response to Sofia. “It’s totally fine, I get it. Tell her I’m going to finish getting this in the oven, and by that time, some of the others should be here and I’ll take the kids outside to ride the ponies.”

Evgeni’s long translation results in a happy squeal and Sofia running over to hug him around the knees. He pats her hair, and doesn’t think about—well. Things that aren’t his.

The rest of his friends troop in not long after that. He hears Ref’s happy barking as Flower and Vero arrive. Ref  _loves_  Flower.

Vero kisses him on each cheek and hands him a covered bowl as Flower takes off his daughter’s coats.

“Can Ref come inside?” Estelle begs, as usual.

“He gets too excited with so many people in the house, you know that,” Sid explains for the umpteenth time. He’ll let him in later after everyone’s gone home. He has a dog bed in the corner of Sid’s bedroom.

Sid introduces everyone to Evgeni and Sofia as his other guest arrive. His kitchen counters start to fill with dishes and tupperware. He gets distracted helping Malin Hornqvist find room in the fridge for the kladdkaka she brought, but notices on a subsequent scan of the kitchen that Sofia is hiding behind her father’s legs.

“Hey,” he says to Estelle, tweaking one of her ponytails as she runs past him. “See that girl over there? She’s new and she’s still learning English. Can you show her where the toybox is?”

Because Sid is the  _fun_  godfather, okay, and it’s only convenient to keep some Legos and Barbies in the storage space of the living room ottoman. What else is he going to put in there, old copies of The Farmer’s Almanac?

“Don’t run around and make noise in the sun porch, though” Sid warns Estelle. “There’s a momma cat and her kittens—”

“Kittens?” Estelle shrieks and suddenly Sid has the laser focus of every child in the room.

“Oh, all right,” he sighs. “But be very quiet okay?”

All the kids follow Sid to the sun porch like ducklings, with lots of loud shushing noises. The amused adults gather in the doorway with their glasses of wine and beer, smiling indulgently.

Sid notices gratefully that Estelle has a hold of Sofia’s hand and has put herself in charge of showing her around. He catches Evgeni’s eye and raises his chin at the two with a grin.

“Thank you,” Evgeni mouths at him, and Sid blushes, damn it.

He carefully lets each child peer over the edge of the mama cat’s box, and everyone coos at the tiny squeaks of the kittens. He swears the mama cat looks proud of herself.

“Yeah, you made those, good job,” Sid tells her softly, as he scratches her behind one of her ears.

“Can I pet?” asks Evgeni, suddenly looming right above Sid. Sid nods and shuffles aside, trying not to notice how enormous Evgeni’s hands are or how gently he rubs under the mama cat’s chin. “Where she come from?”

“She’s tame and friendly, so I think she must have been dumped. A lot of awful people do that to their pets. Drive them to the country and set them loose.”

Evgeni grumbles angrily under his breath in response.

“Anyway,” Sid continues. She must have snuck into my hayshed to try and find a warm place to have her babies.”

“You keep,” Evgeni says, not so much a question as an assessment.

Sid laughs ruefully. “Yeah, I’m a sucker. I’ll have to find the babies homes though. I don’t need four cats, that’s for sure.”

Evgeni softly brushes a finger along the back of one of the nursing kittens. It’s the littlest one, an impossibly tiny white creature with orange splotches.

“Maybe we take,” he says. “I miss having cat. Good for Sofia to learn how to take care. Help new town and school not be so scary.”

“Awesome,” Sid says. “As soon as Dr. Brassard thinks they’re old enough, I’d be happy to let you take one.”

“Sound perfect,” Evgeni says, and the way he smiles at Sid makes Sid look back down at the kittens, ears burning.

 

***

 

The evening is a roaring success. The kids who want to all get turns on Maple or Biscuit, Alex Letang throws a tennis ball for Ref until he actually kind of gets worn out for once, and the conversation around the heavily laden dinner table is boisterous and affectionate. Evgeni and Sofia’s nervousness is fast melting away as they get folded into the group.

Sid loves night like these so much. A full house, so many of the people he loves under one roof. Kids and noise and happiness everywhere.

Evgeni lingers after the others leave, helping Sid with the dishes while Sofia sits on the kitchen floor with Ref. She’s apparently trying to teach him Russian, as he lays with his head worshipfully in her lap, beating his plumey tail against the linoleum in response to her words.

“You love,” Evgeni says, startling Sid from his smiling reverie. “Many people, lots of children in the house. But, no family?”

Sid tenses and Evgeni swears under his breath. “So sorry, Sid. Should not ask this.”

“It’s…okay,” Sid manages, his voice rough. “It’s, um. Just never worked out. Not a lot of—” he glances nervously up at Evgeni. “Guys. Want to settle down on a farm and have a family in their early twenties, it turns out. And it’s a small town. Not a lot of other guys who…like guys too. By the time I was 25, I’d inherited this place from my aunt and I was so busy, there wasn’t time for anything else. The years kind of got away from me.” He laughs, and even to his ears it sounds fake. “And it’s fine. I’ve got so many great people around me, and they all have kids, you know? I’m Estelle and Scarlett’s godfather, actually.” He carefully sets another plate into the dishwasher and avoids looking at Evgeni.

“But you want,” Evgeni says, voice low.

“Yeah.” It comes out sort of broken-sounding.

Sid braces both hands on the sink and hunches his shoulders, refusing to look up

“Is okay.” Evgeni’s voice is so gentle, and he lays a warm hand on Sid’s forearm. “Is okay to want. Will happen, I know.”

“Uh huh,” Sid says, willing his eyes not to overflow and the wobble to leave his voice.

“Look at me, Sid,” Evgeni asks, and Sid does.

Whatever he’d been about to say seems to die on Evgeni’s lips. He stares at Sid, mouth hanging open just a little, and blinks.

The strange little moment is broken when Sofia calls out, “Sid, Sid!” and they both turn to see Ref kicking a hind leg as Sofia rubs his belly. She giggles and Sid smiles at her, willing himself to act normal.

“Yeah, he does that,” he says, and goes to them. “Watch this.” He puts Ref through his paces, telling him to shake, roll over, sit up on his hind legs, and bark on command. Sofia squeals with glee and claps her hands.

Sid is laughing with her, fending off Ref’s ecstatic affections, when he happens to look up.

Evgeni is watching the three of them, looking like he’s been hit over the head with a two by four.

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Sid feels a vague sense of melancholy the whole week following the potluck dinner. He tries not to get like this— his life is a gift. He has wonderful friends and family, he’s able to make a living in a way that truly makes him happy. He has his animals, and his health. He really can’t ask for more. And he usually doesn’t.

But the conversation he’d had with Evgeni over a pile of dirty dishes won’t leave him, and unease hangs about him like a miasma.  

He has a  _good_  life, he tells himself again.

The week has its bright spots. The mama cat and her kittens receive a clean bill of health from Dr. Brassard, and Flower calls him to ask if they can take one for the girls when they’re old enough. That only leaves one kitten to find a home for, and Sid isn’t opposed to keeping both it and its mother if need be.

He’s started calling her Caroline, after one of his favorite female hockey players. It quickly gets shortened to Caro. She makes chirpy “mrrrrrp!” noises at him whenever she sees him, and isn’t phased in the slightest by Ref’s clumsy and bewildered attempts to make friends. As the kittens grow, she takes occasional breaks from them and has decided that when not curled around her babies, her favorite location is draped around Sid’s shoulders.

She’s a comfort, and so are the rest of his misfit menagerie. Puck, the black Percheron, is the best listener. Sid talks to him, and Puck just regards him with one kind, warm brown eye, and then leans his massive head into Sid’s chest so Sid will scratch him in the place he likes best, right under the thoatlatch. Stanley, the gray, is usually more interested in hay than in Sid’s problems.

“So, I should just get over myself probably, huh?” Sid ask him, pulling loose a piece of alfalfa that’s been dangling out of the corner of Stanley’s mouth for the last ten minutes. Stanley sneezes, misting horse snot all over Sid’s clean shirt, then nuzzles him, leaving behind a smear of spit and partially chewed hay, just to complete the effect.

“Thanks,” Sid tells him dryly.

 

***

 

He’s in the grocery store Thursday evening when he hears a piping “Sid!” followed by a small body hurtling into his legs. It’s Sofia, a tired-looking Evgeni pushing a cart in her wake.

Evgeni smiles wide when he sees Sid, though, and leans with his forearms on the cart handle to talk to Sid.

“How is kitten?” he asks. “Getting bigger?”

“They’re growing like weeds,” Sid replies. “Clean bill of health from the vet, too. He says they’ll be ready to go to new homes when they’re about eight weeks old.”

An inadvisable idea strikes him. He really shouldn’t, but he’s weak.

“But you could always come visit them before then.” In for a penny, he thinks. “What are you doing tomorrow evening?”

Evgeni blinks. “Not…really do anything. I’m have job interview in morning and Sofia have AM kindergarten but nothing after that. Are you sure—”

“Come for lunch, then,” Sid continues, before he can stop himself. “If you want. Sofia can see Maple and Biscuit again too, if she wants.”

“Maple? Biscuit?” Sofia shrieks, because she certainly has picked up  _those_ English words.

Evgeni smiles and shakes his head. “Okay, sure. We can come. One pm, is that good?”

“Perfect!” Sid enthuses, and mentally berates himself for using an adorable child’s love of ponies as a lure to spend more time with her and her attractive father. Her attractive, straight father, who’d had a  _wife_  before she’d left him, for god’s sakes.

I’m being neighborly, Sid tells himself. It’s called making friends.

Evgeni’s eyes are kind of, gentle, as he regards Sid. “You like have people over. I’m remember.”

Oh great, now he just comes off as some kind of desperate recluse. Sid looks down at the box of Raisin Bran in his cart and feels his cheeks flush with shame.

“Happy to come over,” Evgeni says, and his voice sounds a little odd. “Will look forward to, so much.” The tone is achingly sincere, and it’s enough to make Sid able to look up again.

Evgeni is doing that thing again where he’s staring at Sid like he’s just realized something, and Sid dearly wishes he knew what it was.

 

***

 

Friday is clear and sunny, the afternoon filled with the beautiful, hazy autumn light that Sid loves best.

He hears gravel crunch in the driveway and Ref start barking his head off, warning him that Evgeni and Sofia are here. He has Caro draped around his shoulders instead of an embarrassing novelty apron this time.

“Hey! How was the interview?” Sid asks, smiling up at Evgeni.  

Again, with the staring. Sid is going to get a complex at this rate. Is there something on his face? He wipes at his mouth just in case.

“Was pretty good. Maybe, you know?” Evgeni shrugs

“What was the job?” Sid asks, as he ushers them inside. Evgeni remembers where to hang up the coats and to take his shoes off in the hall, and it makes Sid feel warm to see it.

“You know university next town over? Russian studies program have opening. Difficult job to get but would be perfect.”

“Wow,” Sid says, impressed. “That’s amazing. Is that what you did before? Teach?”

“I did,” Evgeni says. “But in city. Only adjunct jobs. Had to take two, three at a time to make enough money. Still not enough. Part of why Irina leave, I think.” His shoulders hunch, like he’s ashamed.

“I’m sorry,” Sid says softly. “I know you must have been trying so hard.”

Evgeni looks at him, pain pooling in his eyes and hardening the lines of his face. Sid wants to reach out. Hold him.

“I did,” Evgeni says, and it’s like he’s realizing it for the first time. “I did…”

Sid can’t help it. He reaches out and grips Evgeni’s shoulder. “Of course you did.” Evgeni takes a deep, shuddering breath and sways into the touch.

“Papa?” comes an uncertain little voice from the kitchen doorway. Sofia is looking at them, one hand clutching Ref’s fur.

Evgeni smiles. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He says something gentle to her, and they all go in.

***

They eat in the kitchen instead of the dining room like at the potluck. Sid loves this part of the house the best. There’s a deep bay window and a nook just big enough for a comfortable little table. Through the window he can see a lot of his property as it slopes down to the road; the orchard on one side and pumpkins and pasture on the other.

“Good view,” Evgeni comments, as Sid brings over the soup he’d made and the bread he’d been warming in the oven. The tightness is starting to fade from around his mouth and his eyes.

“The best,” Sid says, and can’t help but smile. He can see Jake in the field, helping a family choose a pumpkin, while the goats stick their heads through the fence and try to beg treats from everyone in sight.

They eat, and Evgeni elaborates on the interview, getting animated and worked up as he talks about the quality of the program and what he’d do if he gets the job. It’s good to see, especially after the moment in the hallway.

Sid, through Evgeni, asks Sofia about her day at kindergarten. Today was apparently themed around the letter B and the color blue.

After they eat, they check on the kittens, and their growth, wiggliness, and squeak volume are assessed. Sofia doesn’t know yet that she’s getting one, and her father wants it to be a surprise.

Evgeni apparently can’t help himself from pointing to the littlest one, a boy according to Dr. Brassard, and asking Sofia for name ideas, though. Sid smiles as Sofia frowns intently. She’s taking her job very seriously.

Evgeni laughs at the Russian word she eventually comes up with. “Don’t know how to translate. Is like, little snow? Snowflake. Very cute, fluffy name, usually for girl cat or girl dog.”

“Oh, I don’t think he’ll mind,” Sid says, and nods at Sofia. “Good job.”

Sofia beams. “Good job,” she echoes. She’s definitely picked that phrase up at school.

 

***

 

Later, Sofia of course needs to see Biscuit and Maple. Sid secures Maple’s lead rope safely to the fence with a quick-release knot and turns Sofia loose with a bucket of grooming tools. She chatters happily to the pony in Russian, with a few English words scattered through.

“Good, Sid?” she calls hopefully to where he and Evgeni are leaning together on the fence, showing him the crooked braid she’s just made in Maple’s mane.

“Very good!” he tells her, and gives her a thumbs up. She beams at him and goes back to work.

“Why you do for her?” Evgeni asks quietly. “You nice guy, but this is a lot. You have whole farm to run, you’re busy. Why?”

Sid takes a moment to think about how to say it best. “I grew up in a fairly big town, actually. We didn’t have the money or the room for any animals. The best part of my summers was when we got to come out here and visit my Aunt Esther. Great aunt, actually. I loved it here so, so much. She and my great uncle were older, and they weren’t able to do much with the property, but they had chickens and a dog and an old horse in the back pasture. Uncle Jack had used to show draft horses, back in the day. Skip was the last horse he had left. I used to coax Skip over to the fence so I could climb up swing over to sit on him while he grazed.” Sid laughs. “Not the safest, but he was a sweet old guy. Took care of me. Let me hang all over him.”

He pauses. The next part of the story isn’t as idyllic.

“Uncle Jack got cancer and passed when I was nineteen. I was taking some time off after high school and was just working a shit job at a corner store, wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with my life. Aunt Esther couldn’t handle the place alone, was heartbroken about needing to sell it. I couldn’t stand the idea, or seeing her so sad and scared about moving away from her home. So I quit my job, told my family I was leaving, and showed up on her doorstep.”

He laughs a little. “The first years were…really hard. I was a kid who knew nothing about farming, trying to do a man’s job. But Aunt Esther taught me a lot, and she got to spend the last years of her life at home. She died when I was twenty-five. Left me everything.”

“Sid,” Evgeni says, but doesn’t continue.

“So all this to say, that I get it. Being a kid, feeling like this place is kind of magic. Wanting to visit and see all the animals. Being obsessed with the horses.  It’s…kind of why I’ve been shifting the focus of the farm’s income to visitor based stuff. The pumpkins, the apple cider. U-pick fruits and vegetables in the summer, apples in the fall.”

He ducks his head, embarrassed at the look and the smile Evgeni is giving him. “It’s just, more people can experience it too, then?”

“Sid,” is all Evgeni says again, and he shakes his head.

“That’s me,” Sid replies, like a dork, because he doesn’t know what else to do or say.

“It is,” Evgeni says. He says something else in Russian, low and fervent.  

When Sid looks up, Evgeni kisses him.


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

 

 

 

Evgeni had kissed him. Evgeni had  _kissed_  him.

Sid passes the next few days in a daze. He can still feel the touch of Evgeni’s hands cupping his face, the soft but insistent press of his lips. The quiet, helpless groan he’d made when Sid had gone pliant, leaning into the kiss and Evgeni’s touch like he was starving for it.

But then Evgeni had broken away, eyes bewildered and cheeks flushed, to regard Sid with “what the hell did I just do” splashed all too clearly across his face.

“Evgeni?” Sid had whispered, hating the plaintive tone in his own voice.

“I—“ Evgeni said, and then Sofia had called out to show him something and he’d gone immediately to her, leaving Sid standing alone and confused at the fence.

Sid keeps trying to tell himself to stop it. Evgeni had clearly lost his head a little, gotten emotional about who knows what. And he’d clearly regretted what he’s done, barely meeting Sid’s eyes as he’d bundled Sofia into the car and left.

Sid feels awful. He wishes he could be angry with Evgeni but he just can’t summon the emotion. He just feels a humiliating amount of want. Not only for Evgeni’s broad shoulders and huge hands, but just someone to be close to. Someone to be tender with him. Look at him like he  _means_  something to them.

He’s angry with himself, if anything.

He’s moody when he meets Kris in Has Bean to go over the numbers and particulars of the next load of apples Sid’s bringing over to the distillery.

“—Absolutely beautiful batch of apple brandy ready to go” Kris is saying. “And the cider from last year is fantastic. I already have orders from local restaurants…”

“Uh huh,” Sid says automatically, at the pause in conversation. He’s stewing about the kiss again.

“And then aliens beamed down and demanded some so they could turn the fuck up,  _honestly_  Sid. What’s the matter with you?”

Sid grimaces. “I’m sorry,” he says, and drags his attention back to Kris, who looks distinctly unimpressed.

He takes a long drag of his latte, his eyebrows judging Sid over the rim. It’s pumpkin spice, because, artesian liqueur-making aside, he’s kind of basic.

“Are you going to tell me what’s the matter?” Kris asks him. Sid only shrugs. He’s not about to mention it to Kris, because Kris will tell Flower and Brass and Flower will tell Duper and then he’ll have the entire French Canadian population of the town on his ass. He loves them all so much but he knows they’ll either gang up on Evgeni or start up their damn matchmaking endeavors  _again_ , and he desperately wishes for neither.

“Hmmm.” Kris looks unimpressed. Before he can start in, though, Sid hears a now familiar voice call out his name.

He turns around, and sure enough: it’s Sofia, excitedly running over. Evgeni is following behind her, looking extremely reluctant and carrying one enormous and one tiny to-go cup.

Sofia has a little plastic purse with a cartoon character on it and she digs around in it when she reaches Sid.

“Hi Sofia,” Sid tells her. He looks up, at Evgeni, who’s reached them and looks faintly nauseous up close. Great.

“Sid, for you!” Sofia says brightly. She takes a piece of paper out of her bag that’s been folded into a small untidy square.

“For me?” Sid says. “Oh wow.” He carefully unfolds the paper, and has to swallow hard when he sees what it is.

It’s a crayon drawing of two ponies, and three stick figures. They’re all kind of floating in a void with a smiling sun above and a wiggly line of grass below, but it’s clearly Sid, Maple, Biscuit, Sofia, and Evgeni. All of the human figures are holding hands, Sofia in the middle.

It’s like a gash has split open down the center or his chest. He has to swallow again, hard.

“That’s so good,” he manages. “Thank you so much.” He smiles for her, making it as gentle as he knows how.

She beams back at him like a miniature sun. She goes off in Russian, pointing at the figures. Sid hears his name, and the names of the ponies, and “Papa”.

Evgeni interrupts her with something also in Russian, then switches.

“Ok, that is enough. Sorry for disturb.”

“It’s no trouble, really it isn’t,” Sid protests, and makes the mistake of looking up at Evgeni. His eyes look troubled as he looks down at Sid, but his expression slips quickly to one of blank politeness.

Evgeni nods at Kris in greeting. “She have to have chocolate,” he says, handing the smaller cup to Sofia. He murmurs something to her. A warning about the temperature, or not to spill.

“We let you get back to talk,” Evgeni says, and steers Sofia away with a gentle hand on the back of her head.

Sid’s eyes can’t help but follow them.

“Hm.” Kris takes a noisy sip of his drink. “So, what the hell?”

“She’s a sweet kid,” Sid says weakly in an effort to head this off.

“Oh she is alright, but I was talking about that weird vibe between you and Tall, Dark, and Russian.”

Sid sighs. He both needs to talk about this and doesn’t want to be smothered by well-meaning friends.

“He…” He runs his finger through a ring of condensation on the table. “I had him and Sofia out so she could ride the ponies again. We were just talking and… he leaned down and kissed me.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“And then what?”

Sid has to make a conscious effort not to hunch his shoulders. “And then he left.”

Kris raises an eyebrow. “Then he’s a dick.”

“Kris,” Sid protests, but Krist shakes his head.

“No, Sid, it was a dick move. If he can’t talk about  things like an adult, you don’t need that kind of drama. I know you, Sid. You’re the settling-down type and you’re too soft hearted. No, stop, don’t shake your head at me. You don’t have to put up with someone being a dick.”

“I think he surprised himself as much as me,”’Sid says. “I don’t think he planned it. It was just a kiss.”

“Yeah,” Kris says. “Maybe. But you like him, so it’s not nothing. Don’t let yourself get yanked around”.

“Nothing is being yanked,” Sid says, annoyed. Kris snorts.”Now. Can we talk about some fucking cider, please?”

Kris toasts him with his cup. “We most certainly can.”

 

***

 

There’s a hard frost that night, the first of the year. Just enough to softly fur the grass. Sid doesn’t even need to break any ice in the water troughs. The bite to the air makes him excited for the first snowfall though. Snow complicates farm work immensely, but it’s so beautiful.

Every year he gets in a load of cut pine trees, strings up lights, and hires a couple home-for-Christmas local kids to sell cocoa while he loads trees onto cars and into the backs of pickups. He puts out a coffee can out so people can donate to local charities, and he lets people pay for two trees if they’re willing: one for their family and one for a family in need who maybe doesn’t have the means to pay for a real Christmas tree.

Sid always recruits a couple guys and they sneak around the weekend before Christmas, delivering them all in the dead of night. Matt Cullen at the hardware store donates tree stands, and the craft club at the retirement home always makes him a bunch of crocheted snowflakes and bright yarn pom poms that they bag up to leave with each donated tree. The food pantry and the firehouse toy drive take care of the rest.

It’s Sid’s favorite time of year.

 

***

 

As well as frost, November brings with it the end of the pumpkin trade. Sid always has a little lull between Halloween and Thanksgiving. This year he’s not as grateful for the downtime as he usually is. Less to do means more time to think.

He has to admit to avoiding town, a little. He makes an attempt at staying busy. He weather-proofs the barn and the outbuildings, and cleans and oils all of Puck and Stanley’s tack.

When he finds himself sitting on an overturned bucket shining each already gleaming harness bell individually with brass polish, he tells himself that it’s time to face his problems. He sighs, and goes to hang up the harness and turn off the hockey game playing softly on the barn radio.

Inside he washes up as Caro and her kittens wind around his ankles. Ref whimpers and squirms because they won’t let him herd them.

“Do I need to get you some sheep, bud?” Sid says sympathetically as he pats Ref’s sleek, worried head. “Nice flock of sheep?”

“ _Bof_ ,” Ref says, which probably means yes.

Sid eats dinner while the kittens try to climb his pants legs. They’re getting big. It won’t be long now until they’re big enough to leave home. A few more weeks.

The one Evgeni picked out for his daughter mews loudly in his ear as it triumphantly manages to make it to his shoulder. He carefully unhooks it’s little needle-claws from his shirt and sets it back on the floor.

“I should call him, huh?” Sid asks the cats. Caro blinks kindly at him, and makes a “mrrrp” sound.

“Okay,” he says, and gets up to do the dishes.

 

***

 

He’s only so brave. He makes the call sitting on the living room floor with Ref draped over his lap and Caro & Co sitting behind him on the couch, purring in his ear (Caro) and climbing over him (& Co).

His hands shake a little as the phone rings and rings.

“Hello?”

Sid sits up straight. “Evgeni? This is Sid.”

There’s a pause, and the static on the line crackles.

“Sid,” Evgeni says finally, and Sid can’t parse the emotion put into that solitary syllable. “I should have called you.”

“Well…” Sid says, and can’t disagree. “Yeah. Maybe. I just. Wanted to clear some things up.”

“Sid,” Evgeni says, and his tone sounds beseeching, and sad. “Yes, you say anything. But please, let me say one thing first, just one? Then you tell me anything you want.”

“O…okay?” Sid says, his hand tightening on his phone. He’s prepared for some kind of backpedaling or rejection, but what he gets is—

“So, so sorry Sid. I’m act bad. First, kiss you without asking. Then, too much coward to be man and apologize right away.”

“Apologize,” Sid says, the word sitting in his belly like a stone. “Right. Okay, that’s— yeah. It’s okay, Evgeni, it’s—”

“No!” Evgeni interjects. “Should have asked you.”

“Why did you?” Sid asks, voice cracking embarrassingly. God, why is he like this? He’s a grown-ass man. “Kiss me, I mean.”

There’s a beat of silence. “Wanted to,” Evgeni finally says. “Was looking at you, listening to your story. And you just— so good, Sid. Too wonderful, couldn’t stand. So I don’t think. Don’t ask, like I should.”

Sid sucks in a breath. “You, wanted to? You think I’m—”

“Sid.” Evgeni’s voice is so deep and fervent. “Sid. Can’t believe you’re real. Such a beautiful man. So kind to my daughter. Such a heart. I’m think you’re perfect.”

Sid can’t breathe. “I— I’m really not. I’m not— “

“I’m sorry about kissing without asking you, Sid,” Evgeni repeats.

“The only thing that hurts about this,” Sid says, voice a rasp. “Is thinking you kissed me, but then wanted nothing to do with me after.”

Evgeni murmurs something shocked sounding in Russian. “Fuck, Sid. I’m sorry.”

“What do you want? Because I  _like_  you, Evgeni. But I can’t do casual, I can’t be an experiment, or a fling, or—”

“No!” Evgeni cries. “Never. You like me?”

“Yeah.” It comes out like a sigh.

“Sid,  _Sid_ , where are you right now?”

Sid blinks and looks around his living room, as though he needs to remind himself of where he is. “At home? Why?”

“You wait,” Evgeni says, sounding frantic. “You wait. Gonch and Ksenia are here and can watch Sofia. Wait.” There’s a beep, then static as Evgeni hangs up.

What the hell.

Sid doesn’t know what to do, so he paces around the house, Ref at his heels. He looks around desperately for something to occupy his hands. He turns on the tv, turns it off. Puts the cats to bed, cleans the litter box. Washes up. Scrubs out Ref’s water dish. Washes up again.

He’s just about to tear his hair out when there’s a heavy knock at the door that makes him jump.

He opens it to see Evgeni, nose and cheeks reddened by the cold November wind. He’s shivering, with a thin coat over a t shirt and plaid pajama pants.

“Sid,” he says, his eyes huge and brown and desperate. He reaches out, and cups Sid’s face in his hands, moves like he’s going to swoop in for a kiss, then stops. His eyes flick over Sid’s face, asking a question, searching for an answer.

Sid nods, and Evgeni surges forward to kiss him, lips cold but mouth hot and melting. He kisses like he’s afraid Sid will disappear.

“Please—come inside— it’s so cold—  “ Sid manages to gasp in the brief moments that their lips part.

Evgeni steps forward, not breaking the kiss as he fumbles blindly behind him to close the door.

Sid pushes him up against it. “Evgeni.”

Evgeni blinks down at him, dazed, his generous mouth kiss-reddened. “I tell you before. Call me Zhenya.”

“Zhenya,” Sid says, and Evgeni’s eyes flutter closed for a moment. “I said before, I don’t do casual.”

“I don’t either,” he replies. “Have Sofia to think about. And never could do casual, with you.”

It’s Sid’s turn to be overwhelmed and close his eyes. Evgeni presses a kiss to his lids, painfully gentle. “We’ve known each other such a short time,” Sid says.

“Never feel so sure about anything,” Zhenya pulls him into an embrace, resting his cheek on Sid’s hair. Sid melts into him.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.” He grips the back of Evgeni’s coat tight. When he opens his eyes, he can see through the front door’s window. A few tiny, early snowflakes are visible in the beam cast by the porch light.

Sid smiles, and buries his face in Evgeni’s shoulder.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The author does not share Sid's views on drinkers of pumpkin spice lattes ;)


	5. Chapter 5

 

“Your dog is stare at me.”

“Hm?” Sid lifts his head, pausing the attentions he’d been paying to the sweet little hollow at the base of Zhenya’s throat.

Ref is standing at the end of the couch, staring with the intensity only a herding dog can produce. Sid snorts, and snuggles down to rest his head on Zhenya’s shoulder. He feels gentle fingers settle into his hair, and he thinks that he can’t remember ever feeling so content. The fire he’d lit in the wood stove before dinner is still crackling softly every once in a while, and the room is warm.

So is Zhenya, where they’re tangled together on Sid’s couch. Sid slides a hand up under his thin t-shirt, more just to be close than to start anything. Zhenya hums, the noise a deep buzz under Sid’s ear where it’s pillowed on Zhenya’s chest.

“He’s judge me,” Zhenya complains, but Sid can hear the smile in his voice.

“Ref. C’mere, bud,” Sid says, and extends a hand to his dog. Ref whines and surges forward to lick at it, wagging his entire body. Sid laughs. Zhenya shifts beneath him, and he reaches out to Ref too, to scratch at his ears. Ref wriggles with happiness and makes as if to leap onto the couch.

“Nuh-uh, don’t you dare,” Sid says. He yawns.

“Getting late,” Zhenya says softly, and touches his thumb to Sid’s bottom lip. “Should go. Need to get Sofia to school in the morning.”

Sid slides off of him, and stays seated on the couch as Zhenya rises. He feels tired, and muzzy, and well-kissed. He lets his eyes linger on the breadth of Zhenya’s shoulders in his tight sleep shirt,, the long, lean line of his torso. His ridiculous ass, emphasized by the pajama pants he’s wearing.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Zhenya says hoarsely. “Or I’m not be able to leave.” Sid flushes, and almost apologizes, before deciding he’s not sorry.

“Look at you,” Zhenya says softly, and crosses the room back to him. He touches Sid’s cheek, and Sid leans into the touch. God. He’s never had anyone be so sweet with him before.

“What about me?” Sid asks.

“Hair all fluffy,” Zhenya says, smiling. “Sleepy. Pretty mouth all red, because of me. Make me want to stay forever.”

Sid wants to tell him “then stay,” but he knows that it’s too soon. Making out on the couch for an hour right after realizing they have mutual feelings is probably too soon, for what they are to each other. But everything about it had felt right.

“Let me find you a warmer coat,” Sid says, getting up. “The one you had on was ridiculous for this weather. Over  _pjs_ , even.”

Zhenya smiles sheepishly. “Couldn’t wait.” His words make the warm glow in Sid’s chest go even warmer.

Sid finds him his warmest coat with the least amount of horse and goat hair on it. He unnecessarily helps Zhenya into it, smoothing the front of it down after he zips it closed.

“Too big on me,” Zhenya says appreciatively, eyes resting, heavy lidded, on Sid’s shoulders and chest. Sid turns red and busies himself finding a scarf and a toque to give Zhenya as well.

When he’s bundled up to Sid’s satisfaction, he kisses him again at the door, long and lingering. When they step out to the porch, there’s a dusting of snow, and even more swirling down in the light spilling from the house.

Zhenya laughs, and reaches out to catch a flake on his palm. Sid eyes what he can see of the driveway.

“Drive careful,” he tells Zhenya. “It’s just a dusting but it’ll be slippery. Text me when you get home.”

Zhenya promises to do so, and leaves, only pausing to come back and kiss Sid one more time once.

After about twenty minutes, he texts Sid two snowflakes and a heart.

***

He texts Tanger, even though it’s late.

>call off the Québécois mafia.

_> i have no idea what you’re talking about_

>yes you do. Don’t hassle Evgeni Malkin.

_> who?_

>Kristopher.

_> ok fine_

_> why not_

>we dealt with it like mature adults is why not

_> define mature adult. I’m hoping you told him off but inside my heart I know you’re too Canadian_

>tanger. You’re Canadian

_> I’m French Canadian. Big difference and you know it_

_> deets, or I’m not letting you hold Victoria at the next potluck_

>we talked.

_> aaaaaaaaand???????_

>we’re going to try it out.

_> like dating???????!?! Or just like banging_

Tanger then sends a truly distressing combination of emoticons.

>yes, dating, you heathen

_> gett iiiiit_

>stop

_> you know what this means. we have to make sure he’s good enough for you._

>Kristopher Allen Letang I am a grown-ass man, not a fair maiden in one of Cath’s period dramas

>which I know you secretly love, even though you complain like hell when she wants to watch them

>we share a Netflix, I know you watched the entire 1995 Pride and Prejudice when she was out of town last month.

_> I did NOT_

>check your pants bud, might have to call the fire department

_> my pants situation is hot as burning all the ttime, Sid_

>gross. Tell flower and Duper to leave Evgeni alone. I know Brass will, because he has more decency that the rest of you put together.

_> You wound me_

_> Really though, if you’re happy, I’m happy, bud. Congrats._

>Thanks

_> If he breaks your hearts all bets are off though_

>KRIS

_> I’m kidding. We love you, man. That’s all._

>I love you too.

***

When Sid wakes up the next morning, the light coming through the curtains is the pure, bright kind that means only one thing. The dusting of snow from last night has become a pristine blanket of white. He smiles, and fumbles for his phone to check the time. He smiles even wider to see that he has a text from Zhenya. It’s just “good morning” and another heart, but it makes Sid bury his burning face into his pillows all the same.

Sid isn’t a whistler, he’s a hummer. Or more accurately, a mutterer-of-nonsense-syllables-to-the-tune-of-a-song. This morning he has that one song about bodies and backroads that keeps playing on the radio stuck in his head, and he’s not ashamed to say he bops around the kitchen to it, Ref dogging his heels, excited that his person is so excited too.

Caro sprawls elegantly underfoot in the exact middle of the kitchen floor and the kittens alternate between trying to climb Sid’s pants legs and chasing balls of tinfoil he tosses for them.

It’s a good morning.

***.

Sid has Sofia and Zhenya over the first day that the snow is deep enough to get the sleigh out.

Sid uses the excuse that he has to get the horses used to it again before the tree lot goes up and he starts giving rides to visitors, but the real reason is that he wants to see Sofia’s face when she sees its gleaming sides and hears the jingle of the harness bells.

The sleigh is a beautiful, impractical thing, a holdover from the his great-uncle’s horse training and showing days. Sid has a bare bones work sled for when he needs to actually haul things, but he loves the sleigh. And he does make a nice amount of money from giving visitors rides all December.

He’s in the barn when he hears their car pull up, and he can hear a stream of excited, high-pitched Russian from the moment the car door opens. The sleigh is already sitting out in front of the barn and he can hear Sofia exclaim over it, and Zhenya’s patient answers to what must be a volley of questions.

Sid grins to himself and does a final check of all the straps and buckles of Puck’s tack. Then, harness jingling, he leads the massive horse out of the barn and into the snow-bright afternoon.

He keeps grinning as he watches Sofia’s eyes go round as an owl’s, and as she covers her mouth with a mittened hand. Evgeni smiles at him and pats Sofia’s head. She’s got a toque on with a massive pom pom on top, and she’s pretty much the cutest thing ever with her matching mittens and cold-reddened cheeks.

Sid gets to work hitching up Puck before he goes back for Stanley. By the time the horses are ready to go, Sofia is jumping up and down.

“Hey,” Sid tells her. “Easy there. These guys are pretty relaxed but not all horses are.”

Zhenya relays the information to her and she settles. Sid lifts her up so she can stroke Puck and Stanley’s velvety noses. She gives Stanley a kiss and Sid looks over at Zhenya to smile with him about how cute it was.

Zhenya is watching them with soft, soft eyes. He moves in closer and wraps an arm around Sid’s waist and squeezes.

“Thank you, Sid,” he says softly, and Sid has to glance away from the way he’s regarding Sid.

“I’m happy to do it,” he tells Zhenya, and goes to hoist Sofia onto the sleigh’s seat and to tuck her into the blankets there.

The first time he takes the Percherons out into the snow every year is always pretty magical. But it’s the best it’s ever been with Zhenya and Sofia sitting behind him.

The wind bites their faces and it starts to snow halfway through. Sid turns to look back at Zhenya and Sofia. They’re wearing wide, matching smiles, and there are snowflakes dusting their hats and scarves.

Evgeni grins at him and jerks his chin at the route they’re taking. “Hey! Watch road!”

“What, you don’t trust Puck and Stanley?” Sid chirps back, but turns around with a shake of his head and a smile.

***

After the horses have been cooled down, groomed, and put away, they find themselves once again in Sid’s kitchen, warming back up with coffee for Sid, tea for Zhenya, and cocoa for Sofia. Sofia clambers down off of her father’s lap and into Sid’s, snuggling in and pointing at things so that he’ll tell her the English words. He thinks he probably know a lot of the words already, but he’s beyond touched that she’s asking him.

“Oh, yeah, that’s a teapot, eh?” Sid tells her.

She nods solemnly. “Teapot, eh.”

Zhenya doubles over laughing, and leans over to noisily kiss his daughter’s cheek. “She gonna sound so Canadian.”

Sid’s heart feels warm and tender in his chest. He meets Zhenya’s eyes. He wants to… ask him if he means it, if he thinks Sid is going to be part of his and Sofia’s life long enough to leave his mark on her words.

Zhenya’s expression is gentle, as if he knows what Sid’s thinking.

“Have this feeling, you know?” he says. “Strong feeling.”

Sid ducks his head, and tightens his arms briefly around Sofia for a hug, her soft hair against his cheek.

God, he want this. A child in his arms, someone he loves smiling at him across the table. The dream used to be a nebulous one. A faceless man and the merest idea of a child.

The dream is a little different now.

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

 

Zhenya drops Sofia off at Sid’s when he has his second round of interviews at the university. Sid can tell there’s something off with her right away, her “hi Sid” soft and her eyes downcast.  She’s diligent as always, though, as she follows Sid around on his chores, helping pour feed into buckets and giggling when strands of hay and alfalfa get stuck to her fuzzy mittens. She pets the animals, tells them to be good, and comes along readily enough to wash up for lunch.

But Sid catches her frowning into space and muttering to herself over her grilled cheese.

“What’s up, kiddo?” he asks gently. She proceeds to tell him a fairly garbled story, the gist of which he finally gathers is that there is a school holiday play, she’s a “rainy-deer” in it, and she has to talk in front of everyone. And she’s scared people will laugh at the way she speaks. Sid’s heart breaks.

By the end of this her chin is wobbling and her face is crumpling, and Sid can’t help but gather her into his arms. It’s nothing but Russian now, as she wails and cries into his shirt. Sid is at a complete loss, so he just rocks her and soothes a hand over her tangled brown curls, and tells her it’s going to be okay.

“Tell you what, sweetheart,” he says to her. “We can practice, okay? I’ll help you, your papa will help you, Ksenia and Sergei will help you, Ref will help you…”

Naming the dog makes her smile tentatively through the tears. “Ref doesn’t  _English_!” she chides Sid.

“Oh?” Sid says, like he’s surprised, and looks down at Ref, who is trying to worm his nose in between them because Someone is Upset and he’s distressed about it. “No English, bud?” Ref whines, and Sofia giggles, then hiccups, thanks to her crying bout.

“He says he’ll listen anyway,” Sid tells her, leaning to grab a tissue and help Sofia clean up her running nose and tear-stained cheeks.

“Ok,” Sophia says softly, and burrows further into Sid’s arms. “You come see? When I’m rainydeer?”

“Sure, kiddo,” Sid tells her, and he can’t even feel the edges of the vast tenderness welling in his chest.

 

***

 

He’d had some activities planned for the afternoon. But he scraps in them favor of something quiet and comforting after the emotional outburst, fetching blankets and kittens and snacks, pulling up Youtube on the tv to play some Russian children’s cartoons he’d bookmarked. They’re stop motion and really old but Sofia smiles through the last of her tears and starts to very softly sing one of the songs along under her breath.

“Papa do,” she pauses to tell him, and Sid wants to die at the mental image of Zhenya holding his daughter and singing funny little children’s songs to her.

After a while, he figures she should probably practice her English too, so he pulls up  _Moana_ , which she  _loves_. She sits up, blanket sliding off her shoulders as she stares at the screen, eyes big and shiny.

Sid has created a monster because when it’s over she jumps up and cries, “Again! Again!” and he can’t help but oblige her, because he’s a pushover, apparently.

When Zhenya comes to pick her up, she takes a flying leap into his arms, and is off, talking a mile-a-minute. Sid hears his name a lot of times, and  Zhenya pauses between serious acknowledgement of her words to grin at Sid, fond and a little teasing.

“You spoil,” he murmurs to Sid, as Sofia pulls on her snow boots. His words are admonishing but his tone is delighted and warm.

“She had a hard day,” Sid whispers back. “She was really upset about the school play.”

Zhenya’s face falls. “Could fix everything for her, if I could. Whole world. What kind of person laugh at how little girl talk?” He starts to say what Sid is pretty sure is a swear, but catches himself and says something else.

“Okay, I swear I just heard you say, ‘pancakes’,” Sid says.

Zhenya snorts. “Is like say ‘fudge,’ in English, instead of other bad word. Also–” Zhenya narrows his eyes. “How you know what ‘blin’ mean?”

Sid blushes. “Duolingo is kind of random,” he admits, and feels his face go from pink to scarlet as Zhenya beams at him.

“You study Russian?” he says, and darts his eyes to Sofia, who’s absorbed in zipping up her coat. While she’s busy he leans forward and presses his lips to Sid’s. He hums into the kiss, and when he pulls back he stays inches away, close enough for Sid to notice how long his eyelashes actually are.

He’s smiling at Sid like he’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

“Papa?” Sofia says suspiciously, breaking the moment.

Zhenya turns to busy himself with fixing her stuck coat zipper, but she eyes Sid assessingly over her father’s shoulder. Sid swallows.

She seems to decide something, and nods to herself.

“Sid is princess,” she says, and Zhenya laughs.

“Oh?” he says, looking over his shoulder and winking at Sid. “Why is Sid princess?”

Sofia just shrugs and smiles mischievously. “Secret.”

Zhenya laughs again and ruffles her hair before tugging her hat on her head for her. Fully bundled up, she skips over to Sid and holds up her arms for a last hug goodbye.

Sid’s heart nearly stops when she takes the opportunity of the hug to whisper, a little too loudly, straight into his ear: “Can get marry with prince, it’s okay.”

Sid glances up. Zhenya isn’t listening, he’s pulling on his own outer clothes and is whistling to himself.

“What prince?” he whispers back to her.

She gives him a look like he’s hopelessly stupid. “Papa,” she tells him, and skips off again to take her father’s hand as they take their leave of Sid.

Sid waves them goodbye from the porch and then has to go inside and have a sit down, to recover.

 

***

 

Their dates are quiet and practical, for the most part. Zhenya and Sofia are still living with the Gonchars while Zhenya works out a job and housing, so Zhenya often just comes over to Sid’s, sometimes with Sofia and sometimes without.

Sid loves having both of them in his house. He loves having a pile of large and tiny shoes by his door, a forgotten scarf hanging over a kitchen chair, the sound of Sofia laughing as she’s danced around his kitchen, standing on her father’s feet. He finds out what Zhenya’s favorite brand of tea and Sofia’s favorite breakfast cereal are. He stocks them and delights in the surprise on Zhenya’s face when he opens Sid’s cupboards and finds them.

“Sid,” he says, taking down the tin of Russian tea. “This is only from internet. You order this?”

“Yeah,” Sid admits, and is soundly kissed against his refrigerator for his trouble.

 

***

 

Zhenya returns the favor one day, kicking Sid out of his own kitchen for an afternoon. When Sid comes in from the cold, stomach rumbling, he’s hit with a delicious cloud of aroma that sends him instantly back to his mother’s kitchen.

“Is that homemade donair?” he asks incredulously, leaning over to see the thin slices of meatloaf that Zhenya’s frying at the stove.

Zhenya goes pink. “Internet say people from Nova Scotia sometimes make at home, like this. Different from kind in shops but-”

It’s Zhenya’s turn to get passionately kissed against a kitchen appliance.

 

***

 

They go Has Bean together, Sid to work on financial stuff for the farm and Zhenya to keep working on applications. Their legs tangle together under the tiny cafe tables and Sid has a little trouble concentrating when Zhenya is sitting there with his glasses on, frowning a little at his laptop, cinnamon sugar from his pastry still frosting his lips.

Sid wants to kiss away the sugar and frown both, but he and Zhenya are already a source of great entertainment for their small town and he doesn’t want to encourage people.

Right this moment, even, two white-haired old ladies from the retirement home are smiling beatifically and knowingly at him from the next table over, and Jean Sebastien keeps winking with decreasing subtlety at him from behind the espresso machine.

He lives in an entire town of meddling yentas, he swears.

 

***

 

Zhenya finally gets the call that he’s being offered a teaching position at the university in mid-December.

He celebrates by showing up at Sid’s and, failing to be able to pick him up and spin him in a circle, gives him a bone-crushing hug that rocks him back on his heels.

“We go to city,” Zhenya proclaims. “Fancy place, dress nice. Treat you good.” He kisses Sid long and slow.

“I dunno,” Sid says breathlessly, as Zhenya presses his mouth to Sid’s neck and the tender skin beneath his ear. “You treat me pretty good as it is.”

Zhenya pauses to give Sid a heated look. “Stop be so cute, or we be late.”

Sid laughs, and goes to dig out one of his very few decent dress shirts.

 

***

 

It’s wonderful. Sid doesn’t mind the city too much, he was raised here after all. It’s fun to visit, once in a while.

And it’s indescribably wonderful to walk with Zhenya down a street where all the trees have been decked with sparkling lights.

Zhenya reels Sid in by the scarf for a kiss underneath a twinkling canopy.

“We’re a cliche,” Sid says, but smiles and leans up to kiss Zhenya again.

The restaurant is dim and romantic. Sid is flushed from the delicious wine, the food, and the looks Zhenya keeps sending him across the table.

“Stop that,” he laughs, as Zhenya’s foot slides flirtatiously up his leg underneath the table.

Zhenya just smiles into his wine glass.

“To your new job,” Sid says, clinking his glass of Merlot against Zhenya’s Burgandy.

“To you, for being so beautiful,” Zhenya says, low, and picks up Sid’s hand to kiss his knuckles.

Sid thinks maybe he should feel embarrassed at how much that makes him swoon but he can’t find it in himself to care.

 

***

 

At the end of the night, Zhenya pauses his car at the end of Sid’s long driveway, looking at the snowy fields lying blue in the twilight, the windows of the house shining warm into the night.

Sid looks at Zhenya looking at Sid’s home.

“Baby,” Sid says softly, and Zhenya turns, his mouth dropping softly open a little, the endearment a surprise.

“Don’t buy a house,” Sid asks him. “Just rent, for a while. It’s too soon but…”

Even in the dim lights from the dash, Sid can see Zhenya’s eyes shine with sudden unshed tears.

He continues. “I keep imagining it. Both of you, here. Making it home. And it’s….it’s so good. Zhenya. The way I can imagine it going. Rent for a while. Then maybe….”

Zhenya’s voice is gravely with emotion when he speaks.

“Can’t believe you real, sometimes. I’m always little bit afraid, people leave us. Just like—“

He take a breath, jagged and rough. “And every time, you want us. You want me.”

“I do want you”, Sid replies. “I want everything with you.”

Zhenya kisses him, fervent, and for all they ways they’ve kissed, longingly or affectionately or passionately, this one feels the most like a promise.


	7. Chapter 7

 

Sid is nervous. He checks his phone. The battery’s full, he charged it just before he left. He frets to himself yet again if the camera is going to be good enough for the dim light. He—

“Sid.” Zhenya is smiling fondly at him, and he takes Sid’s hand from where he’d been clenching it nervously on his thigh. Zhenya laces their fingers together, and leans over to press a kiss against Sid’s temple.

“Hey now, not in front of the children,” Flower teases, leaning past Vero who rolls her eyes.

“It’s his first go around at this,” Veronique says with a laugh. “With stakes in it, I mean.”

Sid blushes, and glances up at Zhenya, who is gazing at him, naked fondness written all over his face.

He leans in to whisper in Sid’s ear. “She gonna be fine, we practice so much. Will be so cute. And then we take her for dessert after. Diner has good pie. We let her get with ice cream on top.”

 _We_.

It takes Sid’s breath away. He has to look away, at the other families settling into folding chairs in the elementary school gym. Zhenya leans in to press his shoulder against Sid’s, and settles their clasped hands on his knee.

Sid doesn’t have time to continue to try and handle his emotions, the lights are being turned off, except for the spotlights pointed at the curtained stage in front of them.

The grey-haired music teacher sounds a few chords on the piano, and the elementary school holiday play begins.

 

***

 

The play is a retelling of the Rudolph story, emphasizing the power of friendship. Sofia is one of the reindeer, and she’s mostly supposed to stand in a little group with the others and make appropriate reactions to the events of the play.

It’s utterly, completely, the most adorable thing Sid has ever seen. A small cluster of the tiniest kids sing a little song dressed as snowflakes and the audience makes adoring “awwww”s at each cute little slip-up, like the boy dressed as an elf who spots his mom in the audience and waves wildly to her.

Sofia is trying so hard, Sid can see it. She’s got a intense look of concentration on her face all throughout the song and dance she does with the other reindeer. Sid finds himself mouthing the lyrics along with her. She’s been singing it over and over for days, practicing. She gets through it, does perfectly.

There’s a little scene where Rudolph is sad because he’s a new reindeer at the North Pole, and he’s not sure if the penguins and the polar bears and the other reindeer will play with him. Sid leans forward and tightens his grip on Zhenya’s hand. This is her big moment. The little boy playing Rudolph is sadly sitting cross-legged at center stage, chin in his hands. Sofia is supposed to walk over, and say “of course you can play with us, Rudolph! Come with me, it’ll be fun! “ as she extends a hand to walk him back to the others.

He sees Sofia gulp, and lift her chin. She steps out of the cluster of other reindeer, little bells on her antler headband jingling in the quiet.

She walks over to the boy, and then, stops. She looks down at the little boy, and thanks to his insistence on getting there early so they can sit dead center in the front, Sid can see her chin wrinkle and her eyes glitter, and he knows she’s about to cry. Oh, no. His heart sinks, and he mentally starts planning on how to comfort her after this.

“Don’t be sad!” she blurts, which is definitely not her line, and drops to her knees and throws her arms around “Rudolph” for a crushing hug. Also not what was supposed to happen. “Don’t be scare!” She definitely crying a little. But Sid can see her take a breath and calm herself.

“Ofcouseyoucanplay withus, Rudoph! C…Come with me, it’s— be— fun!” she says, and Sid lets out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. She clambers to her feet and tugs little Rudolph to the other reindeer, to a moved murmuring from the audience, and a scattering of applause that grows to include the entire room. She stares into space, still in character but red as a tomato.

The piano begins to play again, as the reindeer hop around the stage in a circle holding hands with various penguins and polar bears.

Sid looks over at Zhenya, sees that he has tears streaming down his face. It’s Sid’s turn to squeeze their hands together in reassurance.

“Such big heart,” Zhenya leans down to whisper thickly into Sid’s ear.

“I know,” Sid whispers back. “Gets it from her papa.” Zhenya makes an inarticulate noise, and has to let go of Sid’s hand to wipe his nose on his sleeve, because neither of them had thought to bring Kleenex.

The play continues, and when it’s over and all kids take their bows by class, Sid and Zhenya get to whoop and cheer for Sofia, and she looks out and smiles wide when she finds them past the lights.

After, she runs out from backstage to let her father pick her up and spin her around, and to be told how perfect she was.

Then she twists in her father’s arms and reaches for Sid. He takes her from Zhenya, and she clings to him like a little koala. She rests her head on his shoulder and Sid holds her tight and closes his eyes against the sweet, sweet pain of how much he’s come to love her.

“Sid?’ She says in his ear. “I do okay?”

“Perfect, sweetheart,” Sid tells her, and Zhenya smiles at him and the way his voice croaks with feeling.

 

***

 

They go to the diner for the promised pie, and Sofia chatters away in a hodgepodge of Russian and English about the play.

At a lull, when she’s contentedly licking ice cream from her spoon, Zhenya clears his throat.

“Зайка,” Zhenya says to her, then glances at Sid, and lays his hand on the table between them, palm up and waiting. “Need to talk about something, okay?”

Sid can’t breathe. They’d agreed when they’d first gotten together that they weren’t going to tell Sofia just yet. Has Zhenya changed his mind? Hesitantly, he takes Zhenya’s hand.

“Papa and Sid are dating,” Zhenya says, including Sid by using English. He repeats it in Russian. Sid can feel him nervously tighten his hand in Sid’s.

Sofia takes another bite of ice cream. She looks at Sid. “Marisol have two mommies,” she says. “I’m have two papas?”

It’s Sid’s turn to grip Zhenya’s hand. He takes a long, shuddery inhale, everything in him aching at the picture her words paint.

“Maybe,” Zhenya says gently, looking at Sid, then back to his daughter. “Right now we be very special friends. Maybe we visit Sid a lot, maybe he visit us.”

Sofia grins at Sid, wide and sunny. “I like Sid house.” She takes a big bite of pie, reaches up to fix her slipping antler headband. “I like Sid.”

“I like you too, sweetheart,’ Sid says, still fighting his emotions. Zhenya reaches an arm around him, pulling him close against him, and noisily bussing his temple.

“Can do this, now,” He says, in tones of great satisfaction. Sid laughs and snuggles in, daring to lay his head on Zhenya’s shoulder. He’s never been one for a lot of PDA, but he’s finding that just about everything is different when it comes to Zhenya.

The doors to the diner open with a jingling of bells, letting in a blast of cold air and a lot of happy, noisy Fleurys.

Flower sees how he and Zhenya are sitting, and winks at them, prodding at Vero to look.

Sid rolls his eyes, but doesn’t move, warm and content to stay just where he is.

 

***

 

A couple days later, he gets a call that he’s been waiting anxiously for.

“Bro!” Taylor screeches into the phone. “Squid, Squidney, Squidathon. I’m. Fucking. Done. They’re over. Vanquished.  _Deceased_.”

Sid laughs. She’s always a little bonkers by the time final exams are over. “Did you get your grades back yet?”

“I don’t even care anymore at this point, I am a being made of pure caffeine and sleep deprivation. My field of fucks? Is barren. I’m literally booking it out of here as fast as humanly possible.”

Sid laughs again. “Well I can’t wait to see you, so that sounds like a plan to me. What time do you need to be picked up?”

“Ass o’clock in the morning on Saturday,” Taylor replies. And then I’m going to sleep. All day. Maybe all day Sunday.”

He doesn’t blame her, after finals weeks and an overnight bus ride. “Absolutely. Come sleep it off. I may have even have washed the sheets sometime between now and last year this time. You know, ‘cause I Iove you and shit.”

He tucks the phone more securely between his shoulder and his ear as he gets a pristine set of sheets out of the linen closet.

“You’re too good to me,” Taylor says dryly. There’s a lot of rustling around on her end as she presumably keeps packing her bags.

Every since Sid’s taken over the farm completely, family Christmas has taken place at his house. He absolutely loves it. Noise, laughter, food, everyone he cares about in one place. His favorite part, though, might be the couple of days he has with Taylor before the rest of the family arrives.

She’s been leaving her university and heading straight to his place as soon as her finals are over for the last couple of years. She helps out with the last minute holiday rush on Christmas trees and takes charge of decorating his house, because, as she puts it, “I’m all for kicking traditional gender roles to the fucking curb, but you are absolutely hopeless and I’m taking over from now on.”

“Yes ma’am,” he’d told her with relief. “And I’ll do all the cooking. We can kick traditional gender roles halfway to the curb, how about it, eh?” And it’s been their special thing ever since.

There’s one thing he’s got to tell her, though, about this year.

“So, uh,” he says, brilliantly. “You remember I told you I was seeing someone?”

“Oh yeah, Evgeni with the cute kid. We’re Instagram buddies.”  

“You’re what,” he says, shaking his head and deciding he doesn’t want to know how that happened. “Anyway, it’s um. Pretty serious. So he and Sofia will be around a lot. Just letting you know.”

“Duuuude!” Taylor crows delightedly. “Sid! I’m so happy for you, oh my god!”

Sid laughs. “I’m happy for me, too.”

“Good,” Taylor says warmly. “And I  won’t even insult your judgement by giving him the shovel talk.”

“Thanks for that.”

“If he does hurt you, I will of course, skin his eyeballs.”

Sid groans. “Tay. Gross.

There’s a clatter and some yelling in the background. “Okay, I gotta go, Squid. But I’ll see you soon.”

 

***

 

Taylor doesn’t meet Zhenya and Sofia until the day of what Taylor calls “Target Trek 2k18.”

They drive to the next town over, which has more of the shopping that Taylor wants to do.

She eyes him as they walk into the store. “Now that you’re dating a dude with a kid, I can’t let you loose in a toy aisle unsupervised. Uh-uh.”

“I am not that bad,” Sid protests.

Taylor rolls her eyes. “I remember the first Christmas after Estelle was born. You must be contained.”

His phone rings as he’s trying to get her in a headlock for a noogie .

“Hey, ba—Zhenya,” he amends, as Taylor snickers at him.

“Hey, Sid. Wanted to ask if you wanted to get lunch, know you’re out doing errand today.”

“Absolutely,” Sid says, eyeing Taylor. “Tay and I are in Midfield. That too far?”

“Not for sushi,” Zhenya enthuses. Sid laughs. Their little town is pretty awesome but what it does lack, to Zhenya’s distress, is a sushi place.

They make plans to meet at Zhenya’s favorite little hole-in-the-wall in an hour. After he hangs up, Sid sighs at Taylor, who looks seconds away from full-blown witch cackles.

“So _sweeet_ ,” she coos at him, and then dances away with a shriek as he brandishes a roll of wrapping paper at her.

“Behave,” he admonishes. She makes the mistake of coming back within range and he bops her on the head with the wrapping paper.

They bicker until, two aisles later, Taylor turns to him, suddenly serious.

“I know how important they are to you, Sid. I know I’m giving you a hard time but I know how much you want this to work.”

He has to swallow down something really sappy before he has the composure to fake-punch her shoulder.

 

***

 

As she always seems to, Sofia is the first to see Sid.

“Siiiiiiid!” she shrieks, sounding like nothing so much as an approaching police siren. Just, cuter.

Sid crouches and scoops her up, making exaggerated noises of complaint as she scrambles up onto his shoulders, tiny pink sneakers digging into his back as she settles herself.

When she’s secure and he’s standing again, face being squished between her little hands, Taylor is staring at him, smile wide and eyes soft.

She doesn’t say anything, just turns to enthusiastically greet Geno as they all head into the restaurant together.


	8. Chapter 8

 

The holidays are very different for Sid, this year. This year he has Sofia running around the house in excitement and Zhenya beside him on the couch, an arm wrapped Sid’s shoulders, keeping him warm and grounded.

Sid’s mom comes into the kitchen to find him as he’s loading the dishwasher on Christmas Eve. She gives him a long hug, and when she pulls back she cups his face in her hands.

“You look happy,” she says, taking him in. “I’m so glad, Sid.”

“It hasn’t been long enough for me to feel this way, I keep thinking,” he admits to her.

“Well,” she says, as she adjusts Sid’s shirt collar. “I think there’s something to the expression, when you know, you know. Don’t be afraid of something good because it doesn’t look exactly like what society thinks a relationship trajectory should look like. Because to me? You look happy. You sound happy. And he seems like a wonderful man. That tells me this is a good, good thing.”

Sid gratefully kisses his mom’s cheek. “Thanks,” he tells her.

 

***

 

Sofia is getting the kitten for New Year’s. Zhenya wants to do the whole wrapped box-with-air-holes thing because he saw it in a movie somewhere. Sid picks up a festive-looking collar with a jingle bell and a tiny bow on it to complete the scenario.

Sid hadn’t understood when Zhenya had first told him about it. But he spent some time googling Russian New Year’s and now knows how big a deal it is.

It’s the wrong time of year to buy fireworks but he calls around frantically and as it turns out, Phil has some leftover sparklers from the Fourth of July in his garage.

Zhenya’s eyes go wet with tears when Sid breaks out the sparklers, and again when he notices the little paper Ded Morozes and Snowmaidens Sid printed out and hung on the tree with loops of ribbon.

He kisses Sid, deep and sure.

 

***

 

On New Year’s Eve Zhenya kicks Sid out of the kitchen and takes over. He sits Sid down in the breakfast nook and doesn’t let him help. Zhenya is a jovial hurricane, using what seems like every pot and bowl and kitchen tool Sid owns. He’s got a dish towel flung over one shoulder and is singing along to Russian pop, badly. Sid loves him so much.

They eat ridiculous amounts of Russian food and Sid gets pink and giggly with vodka.

Sofia is given her kitten, and when she opens the box, her jaw drops and she turns wide eyes to her father and to Sid.

“For me? For keep?” she asks incredulously. And then when she’s told the kitten is hers, she cries big, emotional tears, and both Sid and her father get strangling hugs.

Sid laughs softly as he pats her back. “You okay, sweetheart?”

She hiccups. “The baby is  _so_  beautiful!” She wails into Sid’s neck. Sid trades smiles with Zhenya and his family over her head.

 

***

 

The period of time after the holidays always feels a little strange and empty. It’s a quiet time for the farm, a snowbound lull between the holiday season and spring planting.

“Sad?” Zhenya asks him, stepping up behind Sid where’s he’s standing looking out the window, to wrap him up in his arms and hook his chin over Sid’s shoulder. “Miss family?”

“That’s part of it,” Sid says. “But I’m not sad, really. It’s just a weird time of the year.”

“Lots of time for think,” Zhenya agrees.

Sid folds his arms over Zhenya’s. “Speaking of thinking.” He pauses, a little afraid. But only a little. “I know it’s probably too fast, and maybe I’m a little crazy to consider it, but, have you been thinking any more about housing?”

Zhenya is very still for a long moment, and then he nuzzles Sid’s neck, pressing a kiss to the thin skin below his ear. “What you thinking, Sid?”

“About the new year, what that means. About what I want the year to look like. Whenever I think about it, all I can picture is you. You and Sofia here, with me.”

More kisses, deep and fervent, to the back of his neck, his hair, and then when Zhenya turns him in his arms, to his cheek and the side of his nose. Finally, Zhenya makes it to his lips. Sid yields easily to him, giddy happiness rising in him at the “yes” he feels in the touch of Zhenya’s mouth and the slide of his hands over Sid’s back and down his sides.

But just to be sure, when Zhenya moves once again to his neck, Sid asks.

“Yes?” It comes out as a sigh.

“Yes, Sid,” Zhenya murmurs into his skin. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

 

***

 

He doesn’t tell Zhenya, but he gets a can of pale blue paint at the hardware store and repaints what used to be his guest room. He sponges clouds onto the ceiling in white, and takes apart the dark, heavy old furniture to paint it in shades of dusty pink.

He figures Sofia will hopefully still like the blue walls when she’s older, and the furniture can be repainted or sold if she decides she’s not into pink anymore later.

He enlists the help of Vero to find a fluffy white bedspread with little gold horse silhouettes all over it, and a lamp with a ceramic unicorn as the base. He tries to have all of it be kind of realistic, not too cartoony, so it’ll grow with her. He tries to think of stuff girls would like, like wooden pegs for scarves and necklaces and things, and a felt bed for her kitten shaped like a cat head with ears.

He manages all of it without Zhenya seeing it, and it helps fill the long winter hours.

He worries a lot about it it being presumptuous, or it not being his place. But he wants Sofia to feel comfortable and at home.

The same for Zhenya. He clears half of his closet, and half the dresser drawers. He finds himself worrying about little things,  such as if Zhenya will like the bedspread or if there’s enough room on the dresser for any pictures Zhenya will want to put up.

When he calls Taylor to fret at her, she tells him to relax.

“If he feels the way I’m pretty sure he does, minutia like that won’t matter,” she soothes.

“I just want him to feel like it’s his home too,” Sid says.

“Your house is awesome, don’t even worry about  it, Squid.”

Sid tries to take her word for it.

 

***

 

Zhenya and Sofia don’t have a lot of belongings, thanks to the moving around they’ve done. They have a a couple suitcases between them, and a handful of boxes, mostly full of books Zhenya needs for teaching. Everything fits in the back of Sid’s pickup.

“Had to get rid of almost everything, lots of my favorite books,” Zhenya says, sadness tight around his eyes and pulling at the corners of his mouth. Sid leans over to kiss him across the gear shaft, and vows to himself to put in a set of built in bookshelves in what used to be the formal parlor of the farmhouse. They don’t need it, what with the cozy family room. It’ll make a great office for Zhenya though, with its windows looking over the fields. After that, they can start rebuilding his book collection. There’s extra income coming in from the partnership with Tanger’s distillery, not to mention Zhenya’s teaching salary. They can manage it.

“What you smiling at?” Zhenya asks, bemused.

Sid uses the opportunity presented by a stop sign to lean over and kiss Zhenya again.

“Just happy.”

 

***

 

Ref dances happily around them as they get everything inside. There’s mud and slush tracked in and Zhenya makes himself anxious about it until Sid reassures him that it’s easy enough to clean, just part of winter where they live.

“Let’s get Sofia settled first, eh?,” Sid says, twitchy with excitement. He so hopes she likes her room. “I set the old guest room up for her.”

They troop up the stairs, and Sid swings the door open. It looks good, he hopes. He’d shut her kitten in here earlier and he’s asleep in a little ball on the bedspead, and there’s snow-bright light coming in through the sheer curtains Vero picked out.

Sofia gasps, and steps slowly inside, like she’s afraid to believe it’s real.

Zhenya has seen what the guest room had looked like before. He looks around, mouth agape, as Sofia bounces around the room, exclaiming over her kitten and the unicorn lamp and the ceramic horse on the windowsill.

“It’s Puck!” She exclaims. Sid laughs.

“That was my Aunt Esther’s. She and my Uncle Jack had a lot of draft horse knick knacks. I thought you’d like that one.”

“Sid.” The rough edge to Zhenya’s voice makes Sid start upright from where he’s been crouching to talk to Sofia.

“Wha—“ he starts to ask, heart in his throat, but it’s broken off by Zhenya grabbing hold of him and pulling him in to an embrace so tight it’s just this side of painful.

“Zhenya,” Sid wheezes, and Zhenya’s arms loosen instantly.

“Sorry Sid, sorry,” he says. “Just—don’t know how—“ he takes a shuddering breath and murmurs something that doesn’t sound like straight Russian or English into Sid’s hair. Sid waits patiently for him to gather his words.

“Keep wondering and keep wondering, how you real,”  he finally says.

“I could say the same about you,” Sid says, thinking of the time before he’d met the both of them. The loneliness of it. He rests his head on Zhenya’s shoulder and lets Zhenya sway them a little, like they’re dancing without any music.

Over Zhenya’s shoulder he can see Sofia curled up around her kitten on her new bed, eyes bright as she smiles at the both of them.

 

***

 

It’s a busy morning, Sid’s been up since dawn doing chores. When he comes back into the house, Zhenya is up, sleepy eyed, hair standing on end as he hunts for the messenger bag he takes to work. Sofia is at the kitchen table supposedly eating breakfast but actually trying to feed Ref bits of toast.

“Living room, babe,” he tells Zhenya, dropping a kiss on the top of his head. “You were grading papers in there last night, remember?”

Zhenya groans. “Essays so bad, Sid.  _So_  bad. Tiny freshman babies are hopeless.”

Sid laughs as he checks the coffeemaker and digs Zhenya’s travel mug out of the cupboard. “Good thing they have you, then.”

Zhenya grins at him. “Sofia and me already feed cats and Ref. You going to meet Kris today?”

“Yeah, later. Need anything from town?”

“Out of shaving cream.”

Sid adds it to the shopping list on the fridge and noisily kisses Sofia’s cheek. “Ref shouldn’t have that, hon. Where’s your backpack?”

“I pack it already,” Sofia says. “Can Ref come in the car?”

“He need to keep Sid company,” Zhenya says. “So he’s not lonely. It’s important job.”

“Ref,” Sofia says, solemnly putting her hands on either side of the dog’s face. “Be nice for Sid.”

Ref whines and licks her face, because Sofia has become his favorite person in the universe and he adores her.

Sid stands on the porch and waves them off. Pretty soon school will be out for Sofia, and she’ll be home all day. He’s looking forward to it. On the weekends she’s his shadow, and she loves helping him out as much as he decides is safe for her to do.

Six months, he thinks. Sofia and Zhenya have been living at the farm for six months now. It’s June, and the apples are starting to show hints of the colors they’ll blaze with in September.

It shouldn’t have worked out this well, by all the common wisdom about relationships. It hasn’t been picture perfect every step of the way. And yet. He’d buy Zhenya a ring tomorrow, if he gave in to his impulses.

Reminding himself to be patient is the hardest part of all of this, and it’s a burden light enough.

 

***

 

In the evening he has Zhenya and Sofia both to help out with evening feed and putting all the animals up for the night.

Dinner is quiet, but content, as Zhenya recounts a ridiculous department meeting and Sofia tells about the book her teacher read them today. Sid updates Zhenya on the state of the orchards and the u-pick berry fields.

“That and produce stand this year,” Zhenya says. “Glad you have Jake to help.”

“For sure.” Sid eyes Sofia. “Eat those peas, sweetheart. Those are the ones you helped me with, remember? Remember the little baby plants we started in the sun porch?”

Sofia frowns at the vegetables on her plate but starts to eat them.

Sid is just telling Zhenya that another Amazon package of books came for him when Sofia interrupts them,

“Is Sid my dad?” she asks, and Sid can’t breathe.

“Is that what you want?” Zhenya asks her gently.

“We read book yesterday,” she says, frowning thoughtfully. “And there’s a boy who have a papa and a daddy. I have a Papa. So is Sid my dad?”

Zhenya looks over at Sid, eyes soft, expression saying that it’s up to them. “What do you want Зайка?” he asks Sofia, still looking at Sid.

Sofia looks at her father; then at Sid. “Do daddies go away?” she asks, voice small. Sid’s heart aches. She has to be thinking of her mom.

He reaches out for Zhenya’s hand as an unspoken question. Zhenya takes it, and looks back at him, steady and certain.

“No,” Sid says, voice rough. “I’m not going anywhere. And I— if you want to call me that, I would be so happy—“

She catapults herself off of her chair and into his arms. He rocks her back and forth a little, feeling too big for his skin, like what he’s feeling is filling the room.

“Dad,” she whispers into his shirt, and he hides his tears with a kiss to her hair, feeling Zhenya’s hand settle warm on the back of his neck.

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

Epilogue- a year and a half later

 

They’re married in the spring, when their orchards are foaming with pink and white blossoms.

There are lights strung up between the trees as twilight falls blue and heavy. Candles flicker in glass jars all up and down the long tables they’ve all gathered around to eat at.

The night is laughter and music and the heady bubbles of champagne. At one point Zhenya is called upon to make a speech. He raises his glass and smiles down at Sid, eyes soft and red-rimmed from all the emotion of the day.

“First time I’m see Sid, know he’s special. Second time I’m meet him, know it’s hopeless, know I’m going to fall in love. We dating for one month when I’m start thinking about how good a ring look on his finger. Nobody else I want to spend life with, nobody else be such a good father to my daughter.”

Sid kisses Zhenya fiercely as soon as he’s back within reach, then buries his face in Zhenya’s shoulder until he’s composed enough to face everyone again.

There’s a furious tinkling of silverware against glasses and more cries for a speech and so he clears his throat and tries to articulate what he’s feeling.

“I, uh. I always felt like something was missing. Thought it was something I was never really going to find, and that I’d have to resign myself to living without.”

He feels Flower reach over and grip his shoulder in comfort.  “Then, I find out that missing thing is you. You and Sofia. You—”

His voice cracks, and when he goes on it’s hoarse with feeling. “You both make me so happy. So, so happy. I love you, so much.”

It’s Zhenya’s turn to pull Sid into a kiss, and Sofia scrambles out of Taylor’s lap to climb into Sid’s and nestle against his chest.

The speeches continue, and as Jack recounts some embarrassing high school memory, Sid looks around, as the smiling, candle-lit faces, at the beautiful trees, at his horses grazing peacefully in the falling dusk beyond the lights. At the glowing faces of his husband, and his daughter.

Sid takes a deep breath, perfumed with the scent of apple blossoms, and lets the deep happiness of the night settle into his body, and wrap itself warmly around him.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me as [knifeshoeoreofight](http://knifeshoeoreofight.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr, and as @RainyForecast on Twitter. Come say hi!


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